Paper Heart On Strings
by 11477
Summary: Cut the strings & it drowns. It drowns & it dies. It's brought back & it's revived. Hope you like this one. R&R. Note: Summaries never do stories justice. Rated for safety. Somewhat AU


Disclaimer - I own and claim nothing.

a/n: _I stopped writing fanfics a pretty long while ago, but I've had this idea for a long time now so I decided to finally write it, and since exams are finally over and it's summer I can finally write it. Just a side note here - When I was thinking of the title for the chapter, I was apsolutely clueless, but iTunes (I always keep it on shuffle) came to my rescuse and played **Mirotic**__ by **DBSK **(DBSK FTW) and that's where it came from ahah.  
PS: The summary is something I thought of, but the title I got from a song called One by Epik High. I changed a couple words, but it was the inspiration for the title (the story has nothing to do with the song)_

* * *

**Chapter 1  
Under My Skin**

Sweaty palms, hair sticking to his forehead, and a heart thudding faster than he could ever run built his anger to the point that it could no longer grow…until he crashed to the floor.

As he turned a corner, the back of his head welcomed a loud thud. In seconds he ran into the stands, hitting its barrier and falling back.

His hands let go of the spot that ached the most and his eyes opened to look for the object that hit him. To his left was a cracked flowerpot.

His confusion overpowered his anger before nearby snickering and voices revived it. Ignoring what he swore were stars floating around his head, he got up to release his frustration.

Before he faced the direction of the snickering, he heard a female voice gradually getting louder. He turned, seeing a figure with red hair shining under the sunset approaching him. She was walking backwards and shouting at three other figures that were evading from the scene too quickly for him to clearly see. Moments after they could no longer be seen, he heard her sigh and turn around.

He was taken aback when he saw her eyes narrow. A looked that seemed to pierce through him. Her clear eyes almost numbed him.

Steps away, she yelled the words, "Why the hell are you running out here?! Do you have no life?"

His mouth opened while his eyebrows crunched together. "You're yelling at me after you threw a flowerpot in my face?! Why do you even have it with you?!" His words were filled with more breath than sounds.

"It wouldn't have hit you if you had a life!"

He took a moment catch his breathe before speaking again. "Why are you throwing flowerpots!?"

"I'm not!" She began to look more aggravated than he was. Her hand rubbed the temples on her forehead as she let out another sigh.

He lowered his voice, acknowledging her frustration. Remembering the others that ran away he asked, "Why did they have a flowerpot?"

"It doesn't matter," she replied while attempting to push him to the side.

He planted his feet to the ground refusing to let her pass him.

She shot another look of irritation before making her way around him to pick up the pot, but was stopped by his arm. She tried flinging it away but his strength was surprisingly too much for her to overcome.

"Why are you being an ass?"

"I'm not. I just want to know why my head feels like it just went to hell."

"Ask a nurse," she said, taking a few steps to the side to make sure there was enough distance between them so he could no longer reach her.

Rather than following her, he took a breath and proceeding to run laps.

Almost forgetting everything that had just occurred, she looked closely at the pot, grazing it's cracked spot with her hands. She safely tucked it in her hands while slowly getting back up without realizing he had left.

She slowly began to walk back toward school grounds until she saw him once again through her peripheral _vision._

He was running faster than before, but his fatigue and pain were still evident.

Between every few steps he let out a deep breath. The breaths were his way of relinquishing the pile of stresses that had been building up for the past few hours rather than symptoms of chronic running.

The more he ran, the more the breathing technique began to fail and an urge to yell began to prevail.

He took another step, feeling closer to an uproar, but he stopped completed. A hand fell on his shoulder followed by the sound of heavy breathing.

He turned his head to see the girl behind him.

Without allowing him to speak, she put the flowerpot down and grabbed a white cloth from her pocket. Once it was in her hands she got closer to him. Close enough for him to feel her silent but heavy breaths.

On impulse he inched away, but her hand reached for his head anyway. She gently dabbed the spot that was causing him the most pain.

He fell speechless, but allowed her to continue what she was doing for another few moments. He finally turned around, stopping her from continuing.

He eyes fell onto the cloth in her hands. His eyes widened at the red stains he spreading through it.

She handed him the stained cloth and began walking away without saying any words.

He watched her leave. His feet began following her, but before he could get close he felt around hand on his shoulder.

This time it was much colder and it crudely spun him around the moment he felt it.

His eyes met those of Professor Snape's.

"I tell you to run and I find you bleeding next to a flower?"

Momentarily at a loss, he realized the girl had left behind the pot.

"Should I ask why you're bleeding?"

He opened his mouth to answer but was stopped.

"I actually don't even want to hear it."  
Professor Snape grabbed onto his collar and pulled him toward the school. "I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey and then you can finish your laps tomorrow."

Still unable to completely feel reality return, he looked to the side to find the girl but she was no longer in sight. Unsure if his daze was due to his head or just the mystique she left him, the thought of where she might be lingered with him.

* * *

The sun was beating down stronger than the previous day.

With a heart feeling like it was dropping lower and lower as each lap was passed, he finally stopped, bending down with his hands on his knees. As he stood gaping for air, the quidditch field began to spin bringing a feeling of pressure pressing on his head.

He lifted his head at the sky wondering why time was passing by so slowly. Before his eyes reached the clouds he noticed the flowerpot lying on its side in the same spot that it had been the day before.

A third of the soil seemed to have spilt out.

With a hand squeezing his ribs, he walked over to the pot. His steps were as slow his breaths until they both subsequently stopped.

Footsteps were making their way closer to him from behind. They were quiet and far, but close enough for his ears to pick up on.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts and rid the smile on his face before turning around to see the girl that kept him from sleeping the night before.

Her walk was just as slow as his, which was accompanied with her head focused on the grass and hands behind her back.

She looked up. The smile that was once there washing away.

For a few seconds her feet stopped moving. She began walking again.

Once she was close enough she yelled out, "Your head's not bleeding anymore?"

He nodded, smiling at her attempt to converse despite the distance that was still between them. "Your pot's still here?"

"Obviously."

They fell silent once again. In the silence, he lowered himself to grab the pot and scoop the fallen soil back in. After getting back up, he was startled to see how close she now was.

Without a word she took her pot from his hands and turned back around to the school.

Watching her walk away replayed his thoughts from seeing her leave the day before. He sprung forward, grabbing her arm.

Seconds after getting a hold of her he quickly let go as if it was an electrical wire in a storm.

She looked down at the spot he touched. The expression on her face left him wondering what her reaction would be, but out of fear of finding out he quickly asked her name.

She gave him a smirk and kept walking.

"You're not going to tell me?"

She looked back again. "I never said I wouldn't."

He stood for a moment waiting for her to continue. "I'll find out then. It won't be too hard considering your hair," he said after realizing that she was not going to continue speaking.

"Same to you," she smirked noticing the platinum shining on his head.

"Let's make this a bet then. First one to find out wins."

She was still smiling while walking backwards, but this time it was more of a doubtful smile. "Wins what?"

He shrugged. "Whatever the winner wants."

She turned her back to him again to face the school.

Although she gave no further reply, he was sure that she agreed.

He stood on spot, smiling, after she left the area.

His bliss was cut short just like a repeat of before when a familiar hand slapped the back of his head.

He looked up rubbing his head.

"You're not bleeding and you're not running," Snape's eyes focused on him, sending a cold feeling down his back.

"I was…I just took a break."

"A break for this long?" Snape looked over at the school to see if anyone was still there. "My understanding was a break would be say a minute or two and it would only involve one person." He paused. "Draco, I know you think you're pretty, but when I give you laps to run I expect you to run them without trying flirting with fresh meat."

His comment surged an angry shock through Draco's veins, but afraid of furthering his punishment he remained quiet.

"Finish the rest and come back tomorrow."

His eyes widened and he began rerunning his laps. There were only a few left, but now he had to come back. Once he was on the other side of the quidditch pitch he screamed, releasing his hate.


End file.
